I Knew You'd Never Leave
by mylittlehacker
Summary: A response to the 100 Word Prompt by TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba. Chapter 1 - Aberrant: straying from the right way - "Keep Me From Turning Away" Moments like these, when murderers leave destruction in their wake, and he's the one that has to see it all- he can feel that touch of insanity that comes with the job.


**Title:** "Keep Me From Turning Away"  
**Rating:** High T/ Low M for blood.  
**Word** **Count: **About 1,345, because I can't really trust this thing.  
**Characters/Pairing: **Dick/Babs  
**Summary: **Moments like these, when murderers leave destruction in their wake, and he's the one that has to see it _all- _he can _feel_ that touch of insanity that comes with the job.  
**Prompt: **100 Word Prompt by TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba. First word - Aberrant: straying from the right way  
**Note:** I've decided to start doing my stories like this because pretty much all of my favorite authors do, so.

* * *

_**Keep Me From Turning Away**_

* * *

All things considered, he's kind of glad this is how his life turned out. Its not like he doesn't miss his parents, because he obviously does. Its just that, when he thinks about it, he doesn't really even consider trying to change the way everything laid itself down.

But in the moments like these, when he's forced to endure the horrors of Gotham, he can't help but focus on all the different outcomes of _what if_.

Moments like these, when murderers leave destruction in their wake, and he's the one that has to see it _all- _he can _feel_ that touch of insanity that comes with the job.

So now, when he crouches down to check the pulse of the woman that is so obviously dead, he wonders if it would just be easier to do _these_ things, and learn to get over the guilt, than have to watch it happen. She looks to be about forty. Same as the others. There's a cut across her throat, and her wrists are twisted in the awful way that confirms just how broken they are. She's wearing a white shirt, which only makes the blood from the gash on her stomach more pronounced. Her light blue jeans are ripped in several places, revealing nasty cuts that have long - since stopped bleeding.

But the worst part has to be her eyes, which are wide open and were probably once a light caramel, but are now clouded and glazed over with death.

Robin closed his eyes for a second, suddenly wishing his father were here and not away with the League to help him because right now, this isn't really something any fifteen-year old - even one that's a hero - can handle.

He stands again, trying unsuccessfully to wipe off the blood on his tights with one hand while using the other to dial a too - familiar number on the phone he pulled out of his belt.

_"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"_

He looks back at the ruined woman as he says, "Yes, this is Robin," and of course the lady on the other side of the line knows who it is, but now even more so since this is the third call in four days and she's working at the phone all week. "We've got another one."

_"Same injuries?"_

The Boy Wonder winces as the other bodies flash in his vision, vivid as ever. "Yes. Same injuries. I trust you can track my location?"

_"Of course."_

"Alright then. I'm done here. Robin - out."

He hangs up before she has the chance to respond and slips the phone into the cold hand of the victim before turning away and fading into the shadows.

He doesn't think about how he is turning into his mentor.

He doesn't know that that's the _last_ thing Bruce wants.

* * *

When he lands in a crouch outside of her window, its because he really needs someone right now and she's the only one (besides Wally, but he's all the way Central City) that knows his secret.

Robin peers through the glass, taking in what he sees. Its kind of unnecessary, since he's been here a hundred times, but he does it anyway. Her homework is strewn on the desk next to her bed, and her backpack is on the floor. He would guess that she threw it after not being able to figure out a problem. Most likely in algebra, because he knows how much she hates that class. Lucky for her, its his best subject.

But he pushes that out of his mind, because there she is, the small lump on her bed with the explosion of fiery red hair. He kind of regrets waking her up, but he knows she'd have his head if she figured out the stuff that's been going on and he _hadn't _come to her.

Robin hesitantly rapped the glass a few times, and she's always been a light sleeper, so she sits up immediately and whips her head around to look at him. She smiles at first as she walks over to open the window, but it fades when she gets a closer look.

She's perceptive, and it doesn't take a detective (world's greatest or otherwise) to see the blood on his hands, knees, and thighs; the tortured expression on his face because he just _doesn't know if he can take this anymore_.

When the window's open, she steps aside and he swings in after taking his boots off and lands silently on the carpet. He turns and lays the boots outside, because he knows Commissioner Gordon would kill her if he found any blood on her floor.

As soon as he turns back around, he's looking into his best friend's eyes and is having a hard time keeping the tears at bay. She sees this, of course, even with his mask still in place, and lays a hand on his cheek, over the smudge of blood he didn't know was there.

"Tell me," she says, so he does.

They sit on her bed and he tells her about the murders, about how Batman was away and he didn't really know how the Dark Knight did it; put up with all of the horror of the city without killing a villain _ever._

He tells her how he feels like he's going bad, how he can sense that little bit of ever-present darkness inside of him when he sees things.

"I'm _scared_, Babs," he says. "I don't know how this happened but...I'm not as _anchored_ as I used to be. Not feeling the aster, so to speak."

They both crack a smile at this, and Barbara lays a hand over his own, squeezing once after second.

"Look at me, Dickie."

He turns his head to her, and she reaches up with her free hand to peel off his mask, the tips of her fingers just brushing against skin as she does. He's surprised when he looks at her and the usual snarky, sarcastic girl isn't there, but instead one that's softer.

"I know you, Dick. You're my _best friend_. I know you. And I _know_ that whatever you see, you'll never be like the people you fight against. _Ever._"

Robin - _Dick_, now, looked at her as the tears started to spill over.

"I know Babs, but- hmmf!"

He was cut off when Barbara leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his, if only for a moment before she pulled away.

"I'll be your anchor, Dickie, if you want me to be."

He couldn't help the little smile that graced his face after the shock dissipated as she leaned in again to kiss his tears away, and he wondered out of the blue if these things that she was doing for him would be the same things he would to for her if their situations were reversed.

The crying stopped soon after, and he reached up to cup her face with both of his hands (they both ignored the blood that stained them). He brought his lips back to hers for the second time, and it was kind of amazing how simple it was to make this transition from best friends to something more.

She leaned in further to his touch and tangled her hands in his hair, and he knew that he wouldn't have to worry about straying from this narrow road that he was on, because he had her.

When he pulled away, this _sigh_ that she made... he had trouble not to dive back in.

"You'd...you'd do that for me?"

Barbara looked at him, her usual snarky grin tugging at her lips.

"I'd do _anything_ for you, Boy Blunder."

That was the first thing that he'd really believed in in a long time.


End file.
